


The Cold

by LivingOnTheEdge5



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hannigram - Freeform, Hot Drinks, Illnesses, Little!Will ( for a bit ), M/M, Murder Husbands, Poetry, Winnie the Pooh song, a tiny bit of non sexual age play, daddy!Hannibal ( for a bit), murder humor so I guess Will 'knows', snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingOnTheEdge5/pseuds/LivingOnTheEdge5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time Hannibal has prepared two brandies enriched with hot water, cinnamon, and lemon, Will has drawn the bath, sprinkled in eucalyptus bath salts, and is waiting to valet him out of his clothing.</p><p> "Seeing me ill and suffering is a turn on then?" Hannibal teases as Will kisses his feverish, exposed, skin.</p><p> "Levels the playing field," Will replies, running appreciative hands up the globes of Hannibal's ass. " I like to see you shivering and needy."</p><p> Hannibal turns to kiss him and Will jumps back like a cat.</p><p> "No way Typhoid Mary!" Will laughs, taking Hannibal gingerly by the elbow and walking him to the edge of the tub. "I'm not getting whatever plague you have."</p><p> "Spoilsport," Hannibal gripes as he carefully settles himself into the tub; he instantly feels better. "Ahhhhh... perfect! You're already exposed you know."</p><p> "Mmm, well I'm not tempting fate." Will argues as he perches on the toilet and samples the brandy." Want your drink?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IaBlMeanie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IaBlMeanie/gifts).



> Hello!
> 
> So, this is a hybrid of genres, a wee bit of age play at the beginning, but it quickly turns into regular couple time. I tagged for age play just as a warning, but there are no diapers or bottles or anything like that!
> 
> Not part of my age play series because I don't really consider it age play.

"Daddy? Daddy? Daddy can you hear me?"

 Hannibal opens one bleary eye to find two bright blue ones peering up at him from the floor in his study.

 The man has been nursing a cold since he finished his case load this afternoon and had popped in a DVD for his boy while he grabbed a quick nap.

 "I hear you darling."

 Hannibal strokes the hair out of his little one's eyes; time for a haircut. "Is your movie over already?" He asks with a sinking heart.

 "Uh, huh! And I'm bored, wanna play a game?"

 "I would love to little one, but daddy isn't feeling well."

 For a split second Hannibal sees shrewd, mature scrutiny in Will's gaze; then the man's expression became soft and childlike again.

 "Daddy's sick?"

 Little Will brings his lips to Hannibal's forehead; mimicking what his daddy has done for him in the past.

 "Daddy? You're hot!"

 Hannibal's allows his tired eyes to droop shut.

 "Mm hmm. Daddy's body is fighting an infection; the fever is how it kills off all the germ invaders. "

 "Stay there daddy," Will commands unnecessarily; Hannibal isn't going anywhere. "I'll be right back!"

 Hannibal nods and settles his aching head more comfortably into the cushion. He thinks how pleasant it is to be cared for; even if it is by his little one.

 Now that he is awake he begins cataloguing his symptoms: fever, aches, chills, headache, sore throat, and a tightness in his lungs that doesn't bode well. He goes over the list of possible vectors of contagion but none comes readily to mind.

 " _Two, three days at the most if it doesn't go into my lungs_ ," he surmises then smiles when he hears his little boy reenter the room.

 "Here daddy, gonna make you all cozy!"

 Hannibal lifts his head to see his little one draping him with his favorite snuggle blanket.

 "Daddy! Your feet stick out! Nevermind...Dr. Will can go get another one!"

 Hannibal sighs. What he would like to do is get in a hot bath with a pint of brandy and an expectorant then sleep this off, but Will is already back, humming happily.

 "What is that you're singing?"He asks as Will drapes a second blanket over his lower portion.

 "Winnie the Pooh, daddy!"

  _Bears love honey and I'm a Pooh bear_  
_So I do care, so I'll climb there_  
_I'm so rumbly in my tumbly_  
_A time for something sweet_

Will sings in his sweet voice." 'kay hold still daddy."

 Hannibal's eyes pop open when a wet washcloth smacks him on the face. Cold water drips down his neck and disappears into his collar.

 Little Will moves the cloth around his daddy's face like he's scrubbing a Formica countertop.

 "Does that feel good daddy?" He asks, and Hannibal bravely nods and smiles.

 "Lovely darling, but next time, try and wring-out the water a little."

"'ring-out' the water?" Little Will repeats wonderingly and Hannibal cracks an eye; sure enough, adult Will is smiling wickedly down at him.

 "Will?"

 "Yes, Hannibal?"

 Hannibal chuckles.

 "Could you help me upstairs and into a hot bath?"

 "Sure," Will replies, already unwrapping Hannibal and helping him to a sitting position" Where do you think you picked- it up from?"

 "I have no idea, but if it's from Franklyn, and all his dirty tissues, he's not going to be happy with my response."

 Will laughs and goes upstairs to start the bath.

 By the time Hannibal has prepared two brandies enriched with hot water, cinnamon, and lemon, Will has drawn the bath, sprinkled in eucalyptus bath salts, and is waiting to valet him out of his clothing.

 "Seeing me ill and suffering is a turn on then?" Hannibal teases as Will kisses his feverish, exposed, skin.

 "Levels the playing field," Will replies, running appreciative hands up the globes of Hannibal's ass. " I like to see you shivering and needy."

 Hannibal turns to kiss him and Will jumps back like a cat.

 "No way Typhoid Mary!" Will laughs, taking Hannibal gingerly by the elbow and walking him to the edge of the tub. "I'm not getting whatever plague you have."

 "Spoilsport," Hannibal gripes as he carefully settles himself into the tub; he instantly feels better. "Ahhhhh... perfect! You're already exposed you know."

 "Mmm, well I'm not tempting fate." Will argues as he perches on the toilet and samples the brandy." Want your drink?"

 "Not just yet. "

 Both men sit in companionable silence in the steamy room. Hannibal feels his lungs relax as he soaks in the fragrant water.

 " _The benison of hot water_ ," Will says quietly.

 Hannibal had been dozing and the gentle voice brings him back.

 "What was that?" He opens his eyes and smiles at his lover, "I'll take my drink now."

 Will hands him the mug and goes back to sit on the toilet.

 "It's a line from a poem my English grandmother would recite to me as a boy."

 Hannibal sips his hot drink; it feels wonderful on his swollen throat.

 "Ah yes? Well the English know a thing or two about remedies for cold and clammy weather."

 "Says the man whose native land boasts freezing winters."

 "Only for a few weeks of the year, then it's quite mild," Hannibal argues feebly.

 Will snorts and sips his drink. "I should wash your hair before you fall asleep."

 "Aww, just five more minutes?" Hannibal whines in a perfect imitation of little Will.

 Will laughs, and flicks his fingers on the surface of the water to splatter Hannibal's face.

 "No buts! Young man or you'll be getting a spanking!"

 Hannibal's body responds to the threat.

 "No 'up periscope,' Hannibal, you're sick!"

 Hannibal laughs appreciatively as Will wets his hair and dribbles shampoo onto it.

 "Tell me a story daddy!" Hannibal insists.

 "No stories for naughty little boys, "Will says, rinsing off Hannibal's hair." Want conditioner?"

 "Not tonight. I just want to soak. "

 "Alright beloved. Is it alright if I go look something up?"

 "The poem?"

 Will shakes his head; Hannibal knows him too well.

 "It's just that I haven't thought about it in years..."

 "Go. I'll be fine."

 "Alright, but no 'Brides in the Bath' please. "

 Hannibal smiles without opening his eyes.

 "I promise...though that would make you the serial killer and me the bride."

 "Jack would never believe it was an accident. Be right back."

 Hannibal nods, sighing with happy contentment.

 ------------------

 "Maybe I should dry your hair?"

 Will is still fussing around Hannibal who has been tucked into bed.

 "It's just a bit damp, nothing to worry about."

 Hannibal tosses back the medication Will has brought and returns his glass to the bedside table.

 Will nods and begins to undress for bed; Hannibal enjoys the show through half closed lids.

 "If I bought you pajamas for Christmas would you wear them?"

 "Nope, probably not."

 Hannibal feels himself drifting peacefully as Will brushes his teeth then climbs into bed.

 "Mind if I read a little?"

 "Mmm mm."

 Hannibal scooches across the bed until his cheek rests on the other man's chest.

 Will puts his arms around Hannibal's shoulder and absentmindedly scratches his head with his free hand as he reads from his laptop.

"Longer than I remembered it being," Will murmers to himself.

  "Mmmm...read it, "Hannibal is falling asleep.

 "I'll read part of it, " then Will's voice, low and gentle begins to recite:

  
_Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon_  
_Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss_  
_Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is_  
_Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen_  
_Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;_  
_The benison of hot water; furs to touch;_  
_The good smell of old clothes; and other such—_  
_The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,_  
_Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers_  
_About dead leaves and last year's ferns...._

Hannibal is asleep before Will reaches the end.

  
Will kisses the top of Hannibal's head, then carefully, so as not to disturb the invalid, closes his laptop down and turns off the light.

**Author's Note:**

> Poem is "The Great LoverRupert Brooke. 1887–1915
> 
> Bride in the Bath-George Joseph Smith (11 January 1872 – 13 August 1915) was an English serial killer and bigamist. In 1915 he was convicted and subsequently hanged for the slayings of three women, the case becoming known as the "Brides in the Bath Murders". As well as being widely reported in the media, the case was significant in the history of forensic pathology and detection. It was also one of the first cases in which similarities between connected crimes were used to prove deliberation, a technique used in subsequent prosecutions. Source: Wikipedia


End file.
